Sister's Keeper

Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content.

Chapter 53: Temptations

Jorah's POV

The Exiled Knight listen carefully to Quaithe's instructions of what he had to do. If he had not had experience in blood magic and dark magic, he would have found this mysterious woman insane. However, after Mirri Maz Duur, the Dragons, Pyat Pree, the Warlocks, and the Undying Ones it's hard to go back being a cynic. From what he gathered, Quaithe will put him in a trance using the glass candle to connect his mind to Alysanne's dream. There he needed to convince Alysanne to wake up or find the object that is binding her there.

"And what does the object look like?" Jorah asked.

"It is something that should not be there," Quaithe answered.

Jorah sighed, wishing she was specific. The only good thing was that the object was not a human or an animal. But questions came of the Undying Ones being in the dream, or the Warlocks. He doesn't know where the dream would be at. Alysanne traveled all her life, other than King's Landing, Dragonstone, and Braavos, there were the Free Cities, then Vaes Dothrak, Qarth, and possibly another version of Slaver's Bay. So, the location may help him find a clue if it were the places where he was there with her.

"How much time do I have?" he asked.

"The dream world will be different from our own." She answered as she pulled out a smooth polished crystal. She murmured something as what was clear now held a slight grey hue. "When the crystal turns black, then you are too late, Jorah the Andal."

Quaithe set the crystal on the table, and Jorah picked it up. It was soft grey, indicating Alysanne's life. It was a bit overwhelming, in a sense, the Queen's life was literally in his hand.

"The Warlocks will try to stop you," she continued. "The world they made might prevent you from speaking the truth. So, find what binds her and make her realize it is all a dream."

"Will she remember? The dream I mean?" he asked.

"Do you remember your dreams?" She replied.

Jorah sighed, knowing the shadow-binder got him there. A part of him hopes that Alysanne remembers. Even if he was going to die, they could have one final moment together. But he needs to get back on track. This was about saving his Queen. The Seven Kingdoms need her, and he vowed to take her home, even if he is not there in person to be there.

Quaithe walked over to the table of potions and reveal a bottle of Shade of the Evening. She poured the magical wine and mixed it with herbs and chanted a spell in High Valyrian. Jorah watched, as she took the cup to the brazier and dabbed her fingers in it then flicked it into the fire. A sizzling could be heard as an aroma of what he could describe as rosemary engulfed the room. When the shadow-binder finished, she escorted Jorah to the makeshift bed that was before the glass candle. She instructed Jorah to sit. The Knight complied as he looks at her.

She set the cup next to him, "Drink, all of it."

Jorah picked up the cup and examined the blue liquid. A slight shudder wracked his body from his previous experience with Shade of the Evening which wasn't so pleasant. Taking a deep breath, he chugged down the magical wine as quickly as possible, gagging slightly from its density and disgusting taste of ink. Finishing the cup, he coughs as his stomach tightened due to the horrendous potion.

"Now lay down, close your eyes, and think of her," Quaithe murmured.

He sighed, doing just that as he laid on the makeshift bed, resting his head on a worn pillow. Closing his eyes and drowning his thoughts about Alysanne. As he was doing this, he could hear Quaithe walked around the room. She came over to him, speaking in High Valyrian before resting her hand on his forehead. Jorah tensed, about to open his eyes but couldn't.

"Think of her, Jorah the Andal," Quaithe murmured. "Think of a good memory."

The sighed took a deep breath, as his thoughts went back to the Dothraki Sea. When the Khalasar made camp, and he took Alysanne aside to train her how to use a sword. His body soon became numb, the blood in his veins becoming cold as his breathing even out. Yet he tried to focus on the memories of his lover. Quaithe continued the incantation, binding his mind to Alysanne's. The room felt like it was spinning, like a child dizzy from twirling around. When the shadow-binder said the last words and tapped his forehead, he felt a pull dragging him away.

Panicked Jorah opened his eyes and gasped. Instead of looking at Quaithe, he stared at a ceiling with carved beams. His head felt like it was still spinning as if he was struck in the head by a mace. Groaning some, he sat up only to stop feeling restrained. Something was on his chest. He looked down to see that it was Alysanne asleep, curled up to him. His eyes widen, examining the room, perceiving it to be western culture and not anything from Central Essos. The characteristic of furnishings doesn't appear to be Pentoshi, so he wasn't in Pentos, nor does it look like Qohor, Myr, Lys, Volantis, or Tyrosh. He tried to find clues where they were when Alysanne stirred.

He stopped, gazing at the woman he loved. Let alone the fact after five months to have human contact even if this was an illusion, a trap to steal his lover's fire. Staring at her, he realized his left arm was wrapped around her. Panicked, he tried to pull it away then stopped, seeing that his arm was clean. There were no traces of Greyscale.

Alysanne stirred as she turned in her sleep, her back to him now. Her nightgown was exposing her back, showing no sign of injuries. The wound from the Daznak pit not there. This was overwhelming, as he carefully climbed out of bed and walked over the window to see where he was. Recognizing the architecture, he knew where they were. Braavos, the wealthiest city of the Free Cities. Quietly walking around, he tried to find the object that could be binding her and get a better understanding of this dream. When he walked over to the desk, he inspects the papers that were a business transaction of silks, leathers, and fabrics.

As he continued, he saw a small painting. This caught his attention, as he picked it up to see the illustration. What he saw surprised him. It was a portrait of them, only they were wearing lavish clothes, and Alysanne most prominently wearing a white and silver gown, similar to what Daenerys wore when marrying Khal Drogo. Inspecting his hand, he saw a gold ring. Putting two and two together, he realized they were married in this illusion. Alysanne did tell him, if Daenerys had passed away and there were no dragons, she would relinquish her claim to the Iron Throne. All she ever wanted was to have a home, and the only place the young Queen felt like that was home, was in Braavos.

"Jorah," a yawn could be heard.

Jorah turned around, seeing Alysanne waking up. She sat up with a stretch, which he got a better look of her. Her Targaryen features prominent, the golden-white hair and indigo eyes, however, something was different. She appeared healthier, not thin, as her breasts were much fuller than he last remembered. She smiled at him, a genuine smile.

"What are you doing out of bed?" She asked, sleep still in her voice.

He opens his mouth to speak, going direct approach of telling her this was all a dream, an illusion from the Warlocks of Qarth. Just as the words were going to roll off his tongue, he began to cough. Alysanne got up, rushing over to him.

"Are you alright?" She asked, taking his face feeling his forehead.

Jorah blushed, having her this close again. Being selfish, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hugging him back.

There was a knock on the door, then opened, "Mama, Daddy, 'ou wakey."

A little boy entered the bedroom with light blonde hair and indigo eyes. Jorah eyes widen, for the boy held more resemblance to him. This was overwhelming, to comprehend that Alysanne deepest desire was to be married to him and have a family of her own. Not being the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But somewhere away from Westeros, where there was no war.

"You're awake, my little cub," Alysanne chuckled, as she pulled back from Jorah and picked up the toddler.

"Morning, Daddy," the boy said.

"Uh…morning," Jorah replied, not knowing the boy's name.

"Me hungry," the boy announced.

"All right, what would you like to eat?" Alysanne asked.

"Bread and jam," he said.

Alysanne chuckled, "Oh course Joren, bread and jam."

Joren, Jorah thought. That was the name of his grandfather. He doesn't recall telling Alysanne about that, only his father, mother, and aunt. Not once did he mention his grandparents. His grandfather Joren was a good man, died before Robert's Rebellion. How could Alysanne and the Warlocks know about his grandfather?

"Let's get breakfast," She said, as she carried the boy out of the bedroom.

Jorah rubbed his neck, realizing he did not know as much about Alysanne than he thought. All this time she wanted a simple life, not power. He sat down on a chair, comprehending what has happened. Going over the facts, that in this dream: Alysanne was his wife, they live in Braavos and have a son. If they were in Bear Island, he would have thought it was his dream, although he had to be careful. The attempt to tell her the truth failed. Now he understands why Quaithe warned him about the Warlocks interfering.

Getting up, he searched for some clothes till coming to a wardrobe to get dress, finding the clothes that were suited for him and put them on. Afterward, he left the room in search of Alysanne and Joren. As he walked through the halls, he spotted a garden filled with lemon and other fruit trees. When he arrived into the kitchen, he found Joren laughing hysterically while Alysanne stood there covered in flour.

"Did I miss something?" Jorah asked, trying not to laugh, except a smile betrayed him.

"Someone thought it would be funny to throw sugar. Unfortunately, it was flour." Alysanne muttered.

He couldn't help but chuckle. Seeing her acting so normal, not at all noble or a Queen. Then again, the past few years he has seen her grow into a warrior Queen. Now she stands before him as a mother. Unable to resist, he walked over and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her cheek staring into her unique eye then kissed her, wanting to take this moment before waking her up.

Later in the day, Alysanne took Joren into the gardens as the two play. Tempting as it was to join them, he knew he doesn't have much time. As he pulled out the stone, seeing it getting darker slightly. So, he searched through the estate, trying to find the object that could be binding Alysanne to this dream. It had to be something that should not be there. Unfortunately, there were a lot of items that appeared out of place.

He entered a small library filled with artifacts. There was Dothraki items, Pentoshi, Tyroshi, Lys, and Westerosi. Especially with a bear rug hung on the wall. On the mantel by the fireplace center was the golden dragon egg. Viserion. Jorah touched the egg and sighed.

'Could use your help, my friend,' Jorah thought.

At the corner of the room, there was a trunk. Jorah went over to it and lifted the lid to see what was inside. Inside he found items during their time in the Dothraki Sea. His clothes, judging from the yellow shirt, kilt, and blue scarf. Along with the burgundy surcoat he gave Alysanne when Viserys ripped most of her clothes. There was other clothing as well, the purple gown with metal links from Qarth. Furs, leathers, carvings, things he remembers during their Dothraki days. Deciding the cursed object is not here; he stood up and continue his search.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

I tucked Joren in for his nap and went to find Jorah. Something was off about him. He seemed out of it as if distant all of a sudden. After breakfast, he excused himself, needing to get some work done. I found it strange since we run our business together, and got a head start so that we could spend the Unmasking as a family.

When I found him, he was going through the storage room, where we kept samples of fabrics. He scavenged through the piles of materials, lifting the folds to see what is in between.

"What are you doing?" I asked, leaning against the door.

Jorah almost tensed, not expecting to be caught as he turned around facing me. Almost like a child being caught in the sweet jar. "Trying to find something."

"Need help?" I asked.

"I don't know what I am looking for," He sighed, rubbing his neck.

"Then, why are you searching if you don't know?" I asked.

Jorah shrugged, "Something feels out of place, and I can't put my finger on it."

I chuckled, walking over to him taking his hand. "I'm sure you will find it. You know how to find things."

He nodded, entwining his fingers through my own. His other hand cradles my cheek, which I leaned into it. Staring into his eyes, seeing so many emotions of love, yet I noticed other emotions. One I haven't seen since I went into labor with Joren. Concern, fear, and desperation.

"Really, what's wrong? You were distant during breakfast?" I asked.

Jorah hesitated, trying to say something only it came out as a cough. He sighed, rubbing his neck, "Just a dream is all. A nightmare."

"Want to talk about it?" I offered.

He paused, thinking about it, "Dreamt about the fighting pits is all. Men in golden masks were attacking the crowd, and you got injured."

The fighting pits? I thought. Suddenly a flash of some memory filled my head. Seeing the same description that Jorah described. Surrounded by men wearing a golden mask, men in black armor holding spears. Daenerys was standing beside me so was Jorah and a dwarf. Along with…dragons?

I grabbed my head, feeling a headache throbbing my head. Jorah caught me, "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yes, just a headache," I said. "Joren can be a little loud when playing."

Jorah nodded as he kept his hold on me. "Let's get you some water."

I nodded as we went to the kitchen. I sat down at the table while he fetched some fresh water. He handed me the glass, which I accept taking a few sips. That vision, what the hell was that? It was almost like the dream I had several months ago.

"That reminds me, the nanny offered to watch Joren tonight so we can enjoy the festivities," I said. "Are you interested? It's been a while since we went out."

He paused, thinking about it and nodded. I smiled, leaning over, and kissed him. Pulling back, I chuckled a little seeing the blush on his cheek. "Well, I'm going to rest for a bit. Joren should sleep for about two hours."

As I got up, Jorah kept hold of my hand. I stopped looking at him, wondering what was wrong. He's been acting strange all day, not spending time with Joren, going through the house searching for something. There was this look in his eyes. Something was bothering him, something he wanted to tell me but couldn't. Last I saw this was when we were in Qarth before the Warlocks exposed his secrets. I sat down on his lap; his arms wrapped around me.

"Seriously, what's the matter?" I asked.

"I just find it hard to believe how we come to this," he answered. "In the beginning, I thought you wanted to reclaim the Iron Throne, to return home."

I cradle his cheek, "Home is not a kingdom; it is not the Iron Throne. Home is the family you and I made. Did we go through our struggles? Yes. But over the years in exile, all I ever wanted was to be happy. To be in the arms with the man I love and children running about."

Jorah leaned into my touch, kissing my wrist.

If Daenerys were still alive along with her family, the invasion to Westeros would have been carried out. While Dany, Drogo, and Rhaego rule over the Seven Kingdoms, I would've been Lady of Dragonstone. All I asked for was our ancestral home. Although the path of a relationship happened with Jorah, then it would be Lady of Bear Island.

"Now, you have two choices, you can join me for a nap or search whatever it is you're searching," I said, with a peck on the lips

"I'll be there in a moment," he said.

I nodded, getting up and headed to the bedroom. Once inside, I took off my vest and started undoing the simple braid. I walked over to the window, getting a view of the lagoon and the city. It was not lavish as Qarth or Pentos, or open like the Dothraki Sea, except Braavos is about moving forward in life, not staying in the past. The past should be remembered but not keeping us back. That is why Braavos is more advanced in their civilization.

A strange sense of being watched could be felt as I turned to the door seeing no one was there. I looked out the window and down the walkway seeing a man leaning against a tree by the lagoon. He wore an unmasking costume of red and black, a Barchetta hat, and a red bauta mask. All other traits were hidden under the decorative cloak. At first, I thought he was staring at the estate's architecture, but the way his head was angled says differently. Possibly an ogler. I rolled my eyes and closed the window for privacy.

Just as I lay in bed, Jorah came into the room though he leaned against the door.

"Have you found in what you were searching?" I asked.

Jorah shook his head, shutting the door and came over to join me on the bed. He kicked off his boots and lay down with a sigh. I moved closer to him, resting my head on his chest. Immediately his arms were wrapped around me. It wasn't long when sleep took hold.

.o0o.

"Mama looks pretty," Joren complimented while sitting on the bed,

"Why thank you," I murmured and kissed his cheek.

I was finishing getting dressed for the night of the Unmasking. It wasn't the final night but, having a child doesn't mean we can't go out celebrating every night. Tonight, was for Jorah and me to enjoy the festivities before the entire city is out to celebrate. Already, I was dressed in one of the customs goes, although it wasn't luxurious for our status in business. Then again, we weren't trying to gain attention. Already have enough due to my hair.

Joren smiled and looked at his father, who stood there watching us. Once more, the expression of awe and sorrow was in his eyes. As if he does not want to ruin this moment. I must talk to him about this, wondering what is going on in his head. Anyway, we gave Joren a soft warning to be good to the nanny before we left the estate. Jorah offered me his arm, which I accept after securing my Columbina mask.

We walked through the streets, heading to one of the many squares where the festivities were taking place. All around, people were dressed up in their most elegant clothes, many in purple — Masks all around in honoring the Unmasking of the Braavosi heritage. Music played, as minstrels played their music, performers all about, while vendors offering food and wine was being sold. The aroma of spices and sweets engulfed the air, salivating the senses — the music seducing anyone to dance. I cling closer to Jorah, looking up, staring at his bear mask and into his blue eyes with a smile.

He smiled slightly. We weren't socially active on these pleasures. But the temptation to enjoy the night was enough for us. Even if it is once a year. Entering the square, a crowd gathered dancing to the Braavosi dance. Standing at the side, we observe the performance. A fragrance of the stall selling pastries caught my attention. Unable to resist, I faced Jorah.

"I'm going to see what that stall is selling," I declared.

Jorah nodded as he opens his coin purse and handed me a few coins while I went to see what the treat was.

.o0o.

Jorah's POV

Jorah watched Alysanne as she walked over to one of the vendors to get a sweet. There was so much happening, as the festivities were becoming a distraction. During the walk, he observes their surroundings, having a strong memory of Braavos in his early years of exile. Everything seemed normal, well, not covered in decorations, in the Unmasking Celebration. Over the years he knew Alysanne, he found her to be an introvert. During Daenerys's Wedding, she sat at the side watching the Dothraki celebrate, at the Xaro Xhoan Daxos party she did socialize but stayed close to someone she knew. And here she was, out in the open, enjoying the energetic festivities.

If it weren't for the fact this was a dream killing that was killing her, he wouldn't wake her. She was happy, in good health, and to wake her to realize this did not really happened sadden him. If this were real, he would allow it. Support her on not taking the Iron Throne. Let her live life to the fullest without the consequences of war.

"You should not be here," a man's voice said. "Both of you should not be here."

Jorah turned around, seeing a man covered in black and red attire, along with the accessories that cover his face and hair. Noting on his bauta mask held details of what resembled scales. The Knight also noticed a sword strapped to the man's side.

"Do I know you?" Jorah asked.

"Never in person," the masked man answered.

"What do you want?"

"To wake the dragoness up, as do many. Time is running out. The Warlocks are trying to make this dream a paradise. The longer she stays, the quicker she dies in the real world."

"How do you know this?"

"The man knows things. Find the cursed object. Destroy it before the Warlocks realize you are not the doppelganger they created."

"Do you know what the cursed object is?"

The Mask man paused, staring at him, "It is the color of the Shade of the Evening. It takes the form of something that is part of a tradition, but the Warlocks got it wrong."

Jorah was cautious wondering if this was another of the Warlocks' tricks. A loud noise of cheering caught him off guard, looking away to see a firebreather doing a trick. He returns his gaze to the stranger only to find the masked man gone. Why would this man come over to lend aid? Was he a trick from the Warlocks or did Quaithe send in help? Either way, this stranger gave him a hint in searching for the cursed object. So, it was blue, and a mistake the Warlocks made. He took the crystal out of his coin purse, seeing the shade that he could compare to steel and not a cloud.

Alysanne came over, holding a pastry, "Was that one of your friends from the Golden Company?"

"Something along those terms," Jorah replied, quickly putting the crystal away.

Alysanne nodded as she took a bite of the pasty. He watched her, smiling slightly, seeing a bit of cream smeared on her upper lip. Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed her, along with tongue wiping the cream off. When he pulled back, he saw what exposure her mask didn't cover rapidly blush while her indigo eyes widen.

"I might steal a bite," Jorah murmured.

Her lips pucker, suddenly she dabbed her finger in the cream and smeared it on his lips. He couldn't help but chuckled, licking his lips, then sighed. The temptations of this dream were getting to him. He needs to stay focused. However, they were out during the celebration instead at the estate where the cursed object was kept. If he tells Alysanne to head back, it will draw suspicion to the Warlocks. If only he knew who was a Warlock and who was an illusion in this dream. Together they finished the pastry filled with honey and nuts. When they finished the pastry, the dance that was happening the square was over.

Alysanne held longing to join. She looked at him with a silent question. Jorah hesitated; he doesn't know how perfect the Warlocks made his doppelganger. Let alone the fact that he wasn't much of a dancer. A few dances he knows of, but he hasn't danced since Bear Island. Before he could react, Alysanne took hold of his hand and dragged him into the square. A bit of a stumble, not expecting it, and fortunately, the next dance was something he somewhat knew.

Just tonight, savor this moment, Jorah thought.

The two danced, staying as close to one another as possible. Although, Jorah kept his eyes on her when the dance required them to separate. She was happy, smiling, laughing somewhat. The world was spinning fast from all the lights and people. Let alone drinks of wine passing around like water. His senses dulling, yet he stood by her side, savoring this moment. For when they wake from this dream, she'll be back with Daenerys preparing to take back the Iron Throne and he…preparing to end his life before the Greyscale consumes him.

Time went by until Alysanne nearing the excitement stage of drinking. Noticing her steps becoming uneven, giggling, and skin flushed. Jorah thought one more dance before taking her back home. He spun her around, grabbing her hips, lifting her in the air, that caught her by surprise. He chuckled, setting her down, taking her hand in the dance until he noticed a man wearing a porcelain volto mask as its lips were painted blue along with a dark blue robe. The man continues to make way towards Jorah through the active crowd. Jorah was getting a bad feeling it was one of the Warlocks.

Two women wearing a red mask danced over, distracting the Warlock. He noticed their hair color was of a silvery-white. Just as the women spun the Warlock around, the man from earlier appeared out of nowhere, drawing a dagger and slit his throat. The Warlock stumbled, turning around with his hand up to his neck. Over the grey gloves, blood seeped over until falling to his knees. Everyone surrounding the Warlock gasped, Alysanne stood there in shock. More Warlocks appeared, yet the Red Mask man drew his sword and two more men wearing similar mask join in.

"Come," Jorah ordered, out of instinct, grabbing her hand. He kept a tight hold on her hand, as they ran out of the square. Not sure if it was coincidence or the Warlocks were growing suspicious. All he knows that the people in the red scale masks were on their side.

They made some distance, as Jorah pulled Alysanne in an alley away from the rushing crowd. He panted, keeping a tight hold of his lover as his cloak covered their form. He looked down, seeing her catching her breath.

"Faceless men?" She panted.

"Probably, but out of character," Jorah heaved, for he recalled the Faceless Men tried to make their assassination more natural not open.

"I think we had enough fun for the night," she said.

Jorah nodded, keeping a secure hold on Alysanne as they headed back to the estate. The nearest entrance was the one through the gardens. Taking the key, he opens the gate letting her inside first before entering along with locking the gate, securing it so no one would trespass. Once inside, Jorah removed his hat and mask, rubbing his face. Alysanne did the same.

"Other than the chaos, I had fun," she murmured.

"As did I," he replied, taking her hand and kissing it.

The temptation from the dream was getting to him. Seeing her standing there under the moonlight, her gown appropriate though showed her chest and cleavage. He mentally shook his head, needing to stay focused. Planning to get Alysanne to bed then continue his search in finding the cursed object. One that is blue and is part of tradition. However, the moment his lover reached up to kiss him, his sense of control unravels. Getting a good hold of her waist, he pinned her to the wall hidden behind the lemon trees. Two soft thuds being heard from their mask falling to the ground.

His lips claimed her, igniting a new round of sparks deep inside him. Nearly a year had passed since being with her sexually. All his control and resolve vanished, wanting nothing more than taking her here and now. His hands dropped to her hips before slowly rising to her waistline with a provocative pressure. Meanwhile, his lips claim hers shoving his tongue against her own tasting the sweets and wine that were consumed. When his fingertips found the strings in front of her dress, he tugged them, undoing the bodice until they become loose, and shift tugged down revealing her breasts, causing Alysanne to gasp. He didn't stop there. His palms slid to her breast.

Alysanne gasped again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her breathing in near pants, at his mercy, as he fondles her breast. Lips breaking the kiss, Jorah claimed her neck, remembering the spot that made her moan. Lost in the passion, his right hand crawled down, lifting the skirt of the dress sliding it while caressing her thigh when finding the barrier of the small cloth. Tugging on the strings, the fabric came undone, exposing her hidden garden. His fingers slid beneath, in search of that spot. He sighed when he found it, along with her arousal. Not bothering to remove the rest of her clothes, he separated the folds of her sex. One of his fingers dipped tentatively inside her. Alysanne threw her head back, hit the stone brick, and didn't care. She squeezed her eyes shut while holding onto him.

Growling his pleasure, Jorah thrust his finger inside her wanting to see his Queen come undone. He added two more digits while thumb pressed against her clitoris. As he pleasures her with his hand, he leaned down, claiming her lips consuming her cries. In and out, stroking away to find her bliss. Her inner walls were soaking wet while trembling. Twisting his hand and hooking his fingers, he strokes the spot deep inside, adding pressure. Alysanne cried out, gasping his name, her body tensed and convulsed. Jorah smirked, pinning her to the wall for support while watching her lost in orgasm. She panted, breathing laborious until her eyes open silently pleading for more.

Jorah nodded, unleashing himself from the confines of his trousers groaning from relief as he was hard if not desperate. Lifting the skirt up, he picked his lover up, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressed her closer. The tip of his cock replaced his fingers. Slowly he eased inside her. Muffled cries tore through her lips while he groaned. Feeling her envelope him in her hot, moist, tight entrance.

As his body took over, speeding up, gaining momentum to move in and out of Alysanne. She moaned each time he plunged into her fiery depth, appreciating each thrust, inviting him back for more. The muffled earnest of the sounds she made touched him. When she moved her hips, lifting them to accept and guide him, he wanted to consume her. Body, spirit, and soul, having her at this moment like a madman. Feeling her hands clinging to his tunic, nails attempting to dig into his flesh. She broke away from the kiss, resting her head on his shoulder gasping and moaning.

"Jorah!" She cried when he thrust harder, changing the angle hitting that spot.

Focusing on that spot, he thrust over and over against it until her walls spasmed around his member and a cry escaped her lips. He dragged her back to the present with a thrust that pushed her against the wall and made her lashes flutter. He felt her shudder as her climax barreled through her, a groan slipped out while roughly grabbing her buttocks. Jorah's hips picked up more speed -faster, harder, as he listens to her soft cries and the sounds of her back hitting the wall – until he drove himself deep and came.

"Alysanne," he groaned, pinning her to the stone.

Hips buck a few times as his load continues to spill inside her. His mind was becoming muddled, filled with memories of their previous lovemaking in the real world, missing how it felt to be inside her. Catching his breath, Jorah locked his mouth to Alysanne. Kissing everything of his feelings, his love for her, whispering her name as ecstasy shuddered through him. He didn't want to let her go as the fog dissolved. Opening his eyes to see Alysanne in his arms, flushed, sweat forming around her neck and cleavage and panting desperately. Her indigo eyes locked to him, as a satisfied smile graced her lips.

"Well…that was…something," she panted.

"Aye," he agreed still panting, yet he was unable to pull out, selfishly wanted to keep her close. His hands lingered on her body, possessively. Jorah felt the rise and fall of each breath she took.

"The Dothraki never left us, making love under the star," she murmured.

"I doubt you want the whole khalasar watching," he chuckled.

Alysanne chuckled as well, "Maybe we can continue using other Dothraki position."

Jorah groaned, feeling the excitement rush through his dick.

Temptation indeed, Jorah thought.

Can you guess what the cursed object that binds Alysanne to the dream.

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